Voices
by hello251025
Summary: So many things can happen in one single day . . .
1. Prolouge

A/N: A big thank you to my sister for helping me to come up with the plot to this fic, couldn't do it without you!

Disclaimer: JKR owns all . . .

Voices

Prolouge

…:…

I remember him well, despite the fact he was in his fourth year and in a different house when I started in my first. I doubt he even knew who I was, but everyone knew him.

It's been five years since his death, the longest five years of my life. I guess, looking back it, it all really started at the end of my third and final year at Hogwarts, he didn't die for a year after that, but that was when the darkness began to spread.

The end of my third year marked the death of the man some people would call the greatest wizard of all time - I used to be one of those people but now I am not so sure - Albus Dumbledore.

Shortly after his death the school closed down and by the beginning of November the death eaters had come to my house. To this day I am not sure how I managed to escape.

My parents, two muggle-borns, were killed almost instantly but my mother had only enough time to shove me into a closet where the death eaters could not find me. I can't remember much about that day – all I do remember was that it was very dark in the closet, I could not see a thing.

I will never forget the sounds I heard though, no one wishes to listen as their parents – the people who gave them life – utter their final breath in the form of a blood curdling scream, knowing they gave up their only chance of escape by finding a place for you to hide and that in itself is not a guarantee that you will survive.

I hope never to witness anything like that again, but I am afraid to say that the chances of me experiencing it again are very high.

When silence settled in my house, long after the sounds of the death eater's dissapperating had disappeared into the night I stepped out from the closet.

It was night time then, but I had lit my wand with the lumos spell learnt two years prior, the beam of light had fallen upon the mangled forms of my dead parents, I wanted it to be a dream, all a massive nightmare and I'd wake up at school and my parents would be alive, to send me an owl to comfort me, but alas things like that do not happen and that was one of the first harsh realities of life that I had to learn at the tender age of fourteen.

I remember running, running faster than I had ever in my life, almost risking hyperventilating, to get away from the horrors I had seen there, to get away from the horror my life had become and what it was destined to be.

I had collapsed on the side of the street, my wand must have fallen from my hand because I never saw it again, even if I had my wand it would have not been much use, no one but dark wizards dare to use the night bus, even then, not since the spiking of the drinks they served by the death eaters, but that service had been going down since before Dumbledore's death, since Stan Shunpike was arrested all those years ago.

I had cried myself to sleep that night, on the pavement like a muggle beggar, not that I had anything against muggles and it was then it dawned on me the seriousness of the state the wizarding world was in.

After that night I made my way to the old St Mungos building, by that time it was abandoned, even though he was still alive then, he couldn't do anything to stop it going down the drain.

I wasn't alone in camping out in the old building, a band of survivors that weren't part of the main effort in the war had sought refuge there, mostly older members of the wizarding community, too weak to fight in the war or apparate to a different continent and those that, like me, were not yet of age.

I remember there being a pregnant lady, about six months gone, one of the last happy memories I could recall was helping to deliver her son that February.

The little boy had not lasted two months; it was not the environment for a baby. We had all hoped though that the war would be short and sweet, but then came the worst moment of my life, worse than the day my parents died and my world came crashing down because if that November day killed my world that day in June killed my hope and many of us debated suicide when news of his death and the death of his friends came in.

After that came ultimate darkness that blanketed the world and we had our suspicions that the dark lord knew of our whereabouts but simply chose not attack, due simply to the fact that there were so many other victims to choose from and he had so many to choose from and that he wanted to drag out the wait for us to make our death all the more entertaining to him and for lack of a better word, to lull us into a false sense of security.

Some of the elder wizards and witches and those that had been at Hogwarts with me still had their wands and the elder wizards, for a time, attempted to train us with more advanced defence spells than the ones we learnt at school.

To be honest if was a fruitless attempt all we really needed to know was how to conjure food to survive in the bleak wilderness that the earth had become.

By that time the dark lord had begun to take over the rest of Europe and only three years after his death he had North America too.

Barely any muggles were left in Britain and the population had decreased by millions. His most loyal followers were rewarded with all the destruction and global domination they had seen. The rest of the world had never seen the likes of anything like it since the German muggle's Nazis, except magic made the death eaters so much worse.

To say at that time I was ashamed to be British and from the same country as that scum was an understatement and I used to be so very proud of my nationality.

My coming of age had passed without any recognition, when I was little I used to have such high hopes and we had heard rumours of a small secret organisation working against the dark lord called the order of the phoenix, I suspect I would have joined them if my parents hadn't died when I was so young and I was forced into hiding.

I fear that my life is slowly coming to its end, but at the moment I am not so sure as to whether it is a bad thing or a good thing, since his death I have not known what I wanted, but I will say this and somewhere up above I hope he hears this as a final plea of hope that some how this war will come to an end soon for me, either way

R.I.P. Harry Potter

…:…

A/N: There we go, the little prologue, I apologise for the lack of action in this chapter but I had to get the basics of the worlds situation out of the way before I began. I have some really good ideas for this fic so look out for the next chapter!


	2. 8:00am

Voices

Chapter 1: 8:00am

…:…

**11:00pm**

The chimes of the clock rang, rumbling, through the uneasy silence in St Mungos, a figure hung limp from a bloodstained rope in one of the many bathrooms that existed in the old abandoned hospital.

The figure – a female – swung silently in the breeze that swept through the room from the open window, high in the wall and level with her blood stained, lifeless face.

From the shadows of the bathroom a tall, lean figure stepped out from within as the final chime signifying the twenty-third hour of the day rang almost noiselessly around the bathroom.

The man walked past the woman hanging high above him, a smirk plastered on his face, a sudden rush of wind, like a whisper to the night, in the wake of his footsteps caused her to rock all the more dangerously and the rope that held her groaned with effort.

He slipped out of the bathroom with a flurry of platinum blond hair as a final drip of blood slipped off her chin from a head cut caused not ten minutes earlier but had ceased to bleed upon her death, the final blood she would ever draw.

It hit the floor, splitting and spreading, staining the grubby floor, once so clean, as it reflected the dead, limp body almost directly above it, to which it used to belong.

…:… **15 hours prior **…:…

**8:00am**

I let out a stifled groan as I regained consciousness, the floor hard beneath me.

I was stiff all over, but years of experience had taught me a lot about my body, this was nothing.

Somewhere far off I could hear a clock chiming the hour, like a death toll, counting down the seconds until that final blow is delivered … 3 … 2 … 1

I squeezed my eyes shut, my imagination getting the better of me, but if we are not to imagine what are we to do in the hellhole we are forced to call a home.

Reluctantly I open my eyes, not willing to take the darkness of my closed lids anymore. I needn't bother.

The world away from the dark confines of life behind my eyelids is just as dark, dingy and I begin to feel jealous of those who lost their lives before Harry Potter, the joy of killing Harry forced the dark lord into an utter frenzy of killings and torturing. I say the dark lord as every one who once called him he-who-must-not-be-named or you-know-who died along time ago and only the death eaters and fugitives like me remain.

My eyes are unable to penetrate through the thick darkness surrounding us. I can only see the slight silhouettes of the sleeping figures spread out randomly all around me, each chest rising and falling with each wheezing breath taken.

I turned to see the flicker of a fire being formed, illuminating the dense room and bathing it in amber light, flickering and jittering, the flames forking outwards, blown by an unseen, unfelt wind.

I shivered slightly, the heat omitted by the fire reaching me, warming up my cold body and boiling my blood. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensations of heat on a cold winters day, it was the best we could hope for in these days, fire and a triviality I used to take for granted.

I squeezed my eyes shut, exhaling deeply, imagining I was fourteen again, curled up by the fire in my own home, my fathers laughter ringing through the house, echoing through my mind and slowly disappearing, disintegrating joining the silence of the room, a silence broken only by the crackling of the fire.

A sudden lurch in my stomach, causing the bile to rise up uncomfortably in my throat forced me to hold out an arm to steady myself, my mind fuzzy and dizzy.

A silent whisper broke the silence, circling me with its voice, winding words around my being and core. My world began to swirl and spin threateningly but my eyes remained closed.

I felt sick, paranoia was a common occurrence within our group and I silently wondered if I was finally succumbing to the madness of my mind, not knowing just how dangerous that place would be.

I tried to unstick my eyes but for some unknown reason I found that I was unable to. The pleasant heat suddenly did not feel as pleasant anymore; it felt burning and oppressive, pining me to the ground, ignoring my desperate struggles for freedom.

The voices continued to whisper in my head. A sudden painful thumping accompanying them in my head.

My breathing became harsh and ragged as I desperately attempted to force some air into my chocking lungs.

My hand flew to my head gripping it hard within my finger nails, they dug in hard, painfully and it took all my self resolve not to scream out loud in agony, the voices coercing me not to speak, I listened idly as I felt blood trickle down my temple from the place in which my finger nails dug into my head.

My eyes remained forcibly shut against my will and my screams sat boiling up inside me, the fire's heat causing it to bubble and froth as the pressure built up behind my vocal cords.

I shook backwards and forwards slightly as my mouth relaxed and as scream of utter agony escaped my lips.

As if shocked the voices shrank away to the corner of my mind where I assumed they had come from as my eyes snapped open, my pupils contracting fast as I found myself writhing directly beneath the flickering flames, orange burning, obscuring, my vision.

My screams died away from my tongue, the rumble still lingering silently on my tongue. My breaths slowly began to even out, a mixture of blood mingled with sweat slipping off the tip of my chin.

But the damage was already done. I could hear the grumbles of the others as they stirred out of their sleep.

I gulped a bit to forcefully, but had no time to think as with a sudden force I found myself thrown hard against the wall, my spine feeling as if it had cracked in many places due to the force of the impact.

I looked up into a pair of dark, chocolate brown eyes, fear and regret washing over me. He held me at arms length into the wall, a fistful of my robes clutched tightly in his grip. Jordan, he was the one who lit the fire.

Jordan was just over a year older than me and a sort of elected leader among us. It was all I could do not to shrink under his gaze.

I could feel most people's eyes on me; angry at waking them up out of their dreams and into the harsh reality of the life we lit. The fire behind Jordan lit him up impressively, not a person you wanted against you.

"What do you think your doing!" He hissed at me, causing me to wince slightly. His grip on my robes tightened slightly. "Screaming your head off like that! People thought you had been attacked, or worse, if there was a death eater in the building you would have given away our whereabouts!"

I shut my eyes, inhaling deeply in attempt to calm myself down, trying desperately to block out the pounding in my head and ignore the trickle of blood running slowly down my temple.

We both knew that if death eaters were in the building they would come right out and kill us. Lost was the sly behaviour of the start of the war as to which Slytherin's were famous for, then again most of the death eaters were no longer Slytherin's but of the other three houses, perhaps not Gryffindor though but there were some, out of desperation to live.

I opened my eyes and looked defiantly into his, showing I wasn't going to back down. He saw the fury in my eyes, if anyone had gotten paranoid over the years it was Jordan he was one of the first to camp out in St Mungos, having being in the waiting room at the time the death eaters came. I did not know all the details though, Jordan did not like to talk about it but inside he really is just a scared child and that I can see, deep down I think we are all like that, just scared kids.

His eyes scanned my face and he noticed for the first time the blood and sweat that covered it. As if receiving an electric shock he dropped my robes and his face softened. He looked down, ashamed. When he looked up he had regained some of his composure. He sighed.

"Come, we had better make everyone some breakfast." I nodded and followed him to the fire, where we choose to make all the food.

I wiped my forehead with the sleeve of my robe, the fabric soft on my broken skin despite the fact the robes was worn and dirty, each person only had the bare robes they had on their back when they came to St Mungos as all the hospital robes had been destroyed by the death eaters upon the buildings abandonment, the west part had been where they stored the spare robes and that had been demolished without hesitation.

I chopped some of the fruit Jordan had conjured for our usual breakfast of fruit salad; the silver bade glinted and shined, reflecting the amber flames of the fire in front of it.

The first rays of the morning sun began to peak through the cloudy grey sky as I placed the chopped fruit into the bowl we used every day, the juices running slowly down my fingers.

Every one knew I was the best cook out of the lot of us, I had always assumed it had something to do with me being good at potions in school, of course I never got any recognition due to the snarky potions master Snape.

Although no one expected any slack from a Ravenclaw such as myself, we are renowned for our intellect.

I sighed placing the knife on the table and rubbing my eyes with my hand, a heavy, silent gloom had fallen upon us and all sat contemplating our lives, some staring into the flames of the flickering fire and my head continued to pound. A far off clock didn't help this, the same I woke up to, chiming the ninth hour of the day.

…:…

A/N: A bit more action in that chapter I think!

Thanks toAwayukiLeafunia, Kates Masterand Joywho reviewed the last chapter! Ta very much!

As some of you may have noticed from the title of this chapter and the story description, each chapter will be a new hour … thanks for reading!


	3. 9:00am

Voices

Chapter 2: 9:00am

…:…

_Last Chapter - I sighed placing the knife on the table and rubbing my eyes with my hand, a heavy, silent gloom had fallen upon us and all sat contemplating our lives, some staring into the flames of the flickering fire and my head continued to pound. A far off clock didn't help this, the same I woke up to, chiming the ninth hour of the day._

**9:00am **

As the chimes subsided, but still ringing through my thoughts, I picked up the bowl of fruit salad, it was slightly heavy to carry, but the cool, smooth glass on the outside helped to dry my slightly sweaty palms.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply my head still thumping painfully. I inhaled again, ignoring my surroundings and the oppressive atmosphere in the room, mainly from the heat still radiating off the fire next to me. The pain eased off but only slightly.

I opened my eyes again, it took a moment for them to adjust to the light in the room and I could hear Jordan telling everyone that breakfast was ready but it sounded far off and distant like a faint call out away at sea.

I looked around me; people were beginning to get up, slightly disgruntled, facing yet another day of a life they deeply despised. Sighing I placed the bowl on the table we use to eat, a slight clang sounding when it made contact with the hard table.

I slipped into the seat that had been allocated to me at the table all those years ago, the wooden bench hard and uncomfortable underneath me, not the best bit of transfiguration in the world.

I held my head in my hands, my forehead still slightly clammy from earlier, my fingers gripping my long dark hair at the roots. My eyes were closed, as were my ears, blocking out the sounds of people helping themselves to the usual amount of food for their breakfast.

It was heavenly, no one else but me and my thoughts to occupy me, the only feeling being the hard table beneath my elbows and the bench on which I sat.

Pictures rushed past my eyes, buying my first wand, my father had been so proud of me that day, it had even brought a tear to his eye, his little girl had grown up. If only he could see me now.

The memory shifted to darkness, a closet, screams of torment and agony seeping slowly through the small gaps in the door, me huddled into a ball in the corner, rocking and shaking in fear.

The memory sped up, I was standing with my wand lit in my hand, the small, weak beam of light breaking the never ending darkness surrounding and onto the dead forms of my parents, the light slowly flickered out and died, just like my life on that day.

I felt a light tapping on my shoulder, my grip on my hair slackened slightly and I withdrew my hand from my hair, letting it fall casually, gracefully around my face, framing it.

I turned. Next to me was one of the elder men, his beard had gotten long over the years but his smile remained the same. He held out a bowl to me. I looked curiously at him, why did he serve me my breakfast, it was all for one and one for all in times like this.

"Here, eat." He said, I tore my eyes away from the bowl and they travelled up to meet his. I couldn't help but notice that his smile did not reflect in his stony brown eyes. "Merlin knows we all need our strength, the world is at war after all." His smile faded slightly at his own mention of the war we were in.

I looked away from his eyes and back at the bowl that had been thrust towards me. I slowly raised my hand and took the bowl gently from his grasp.

"Thanks." I muttered under my breath but I knew he had heard me through the silence that smothered the room like a cloth

I saw him nod briefly out of the corner of my eye before he turned back to his food.

I looked down at the bowl held limply in my hands. I placed it on the tabled, a hollow felling imbedding itself within me, manifesting and taking control of my weak body.

I put my hand inside the bowl of fruit I had just been given by the old man, picking out various chunks that lay inside the spherical piece of crockery. The juices slipped down my fingers before running off my hand and back into the bowl.

I placed it in my mouth, but the sense of taste had long deserted me. I could hear raindrops hitting the ceiling out side in a fluid, thud, thud motion, repetitive as it was it soothed my mind as I bit down hard on to a piece of fruit that, from the texture, I assumed to be an apple.

Around me Icould see people staring into to space as they also ate the food which I had made but no one noticed anymore what they were given, when and who it was made by, each and every day just passes by in a flurry of fear and hope that everything will be over and the hope not that the war will be over but that the death eaters will finally come and rid us of what we are forced to call a life.

A sharp pang suddenly pierced my heart forcing me to drop the bowl I had unconsciously picked off the table so as to eat with a sharp clang, the fruit falling out and landing in various places on the table as the bowl innocently spun on its bottom half in circular motions.

I rubbed my heart, the moment of pain subsiding and I could only assume it was heartburn. I had not the time to ponder however as every eye at the table was fixated upon me, glaring at wasting perfectly good food and it was not the first time I had done it either but the thought that they would not have food if it wasn't for me rang through my mind, making me more than slightly uneasy.

I heard Jordan growl out of frustration and I gulped, after what had just happened and what had happened earlier I was certainly in for it.

I raised my head, my hair flowing down my back like water and I saw him motion to me to follow him into one of the old wards, off the waiting room we used as our main living area.

I stood up slowly, stepping over the wooden bench so as not to trip over it and walked, my head down facing the floor so as to examine the dirt that sat in layers upon in, towards the door to the ward.

My footsteps squeaked as I walked across the lino floor but they did not slip as I was wearing a pair of shoes half a size to small.

I pushed open the heavy doors to the now empty wards before it swung shut behind me with one final look at the faces of my fellow survivors before the bang of door on wall sounded and I was left alone to face Jordan's wrath.

I glanced about the room, there was a rain-washed window in one corner, the rain slowly dripping done the glass and falling off onto the already wet ground. The sky was a dark stormy grey, dark even for mid-winter in central London at quarter past nine in the morning.

I looked around the room itself, tearing my gaze away from the rain-drenched windows. This room was furthest west that had not been fully effected by the fire the death eaters had started that destroyed the rest of the west wing but that did not mead that no damage had been done – quite the contrary.

All the beds were burnt and mangled, the once immaculate, shining silver frame twisted and covered in dust six and a half years old. The wallpaper was peeling off the walls and I swear if I looked hard enough I would find a doxy or two within the half burnt sheets.

I looked up to see Jordan standing by the window, looking out of it at the remnants of the mighty buildings that had once surrounded St Mungos. I could see, even from where I stood, the remaining half of the English muggles big Ben I remember when it had been burnt down - a celebration party for the death of Harry Potter had resulted in half of muggle London being burnt down but half of the infamous bell tower had been salvaged and the bell still rung every hour on the hour.

I walked towards the window, stopping next to Jordan. He turned to me, his eyes full of pain.

"What has everything become?" He whispered, surprising me, not yelling but talking about the dreary grey scene outside the window. The next thing I did I do not know why I did it, but I did. After all Jordan was always there for everyone else but no one was there for him. I placed my hand on his shoulder as I realised that, over the years, Jordan had become like the big brother I never had. Sure he was on edge and ready to snap most of the time, but so was everyone. We were at war.

I heard him inhale deeply and my hand still rested limply on his shoulder, I dare not try to give any more comfort than I had already given him, it would only end badly.

Slowly I saw him turned to me, his face slack as if he had finally given up on everything, his world had come crashing down around him and I felt sorry for him, we were in everything together.

"Lets go, it's your turn to clean everything up this breakfast, someone else will do it at lunch." He shrugged off my hand and I nodded blearily, barley noticing as he walked out of the door to join everyone else.

I followed him out the door, barely registering the clap of lightning behind me, outside the window followed by the low rumble of thunder sending waves of low frequency sound throughout the surrounding area.

I walked slowly over to the corner where we cleaned up our bowls, plates etc we always kept a wand there – it belonged to one of the older wizards who passed away after reaching the almost derelict St Mungos building – and we used it to wash up using the water conjuring spell that we learnt during the attempts to teach us new spells.

I rubbed my eye with the palm of my hands before pinching the bridge of my nose and taking a deep, calming breath.

I opened my eyes and picked up the wand, pointing it at the crockery that had been piled up while I was with Jordan in the other room.

Water, glistening in the weak light spurted out of the end of my wand, directed by my magic onto the crockery before me.

As I moved onto the – what seemed like at least – fiftieth bowl I put down my wand arm, it ached slightly, pain pulsating up and down my arm in spasms due to me holding it up for so long.

I rubbed my arm, my fingers massaging the throbbing muscles. My head whipped up suddenly as I heard a whisper surrounding me. I whiled around, turning on the spot, feeling slightly dizzy, my brain failing to register the ten chimes that sounded throughout the building marking the coming of another hour

…:…

A/N: Seriously, I wasn't originally going to have Jordan being an important character in this chapter, or any for that matter – in my original idea he never actually existed :) – but the chapter wrote itself! On another note I actually have no idea where St Mungos really is so for the likes of this story we will say it is situated some where near big Ben!

Also, sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out but my gran died recently so I was unable to get on the computer!

Thanks to -

Emma Barrows and godricshollow for reviewing the last chapter!


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